Dust and Echoes (RWBY/Halo)
Chapter 17: Port of Call
[~][~]
UNSC Midsummer Night, Stalwart-class Light Frigate
Slipspace Transit
April 30th, 2541 0653 Hours (UNSC Military Calendar)
Qrow bit back a curse as his cryopod opened with a sharp hiss of air. His skin felt raw against the still, sterile air of the ship, and his throat burned as his body attempted to regurgitate the bronchial surfactant that protected his lungs. He forced himself to swallow it down, despite it tasting utterly vile to him.
"Ugh, I am never going to get used to this," Qrow complained to no one as he pulled himself out of the cryopod.
Walking over to a nearby locker, Qrow quickly began dressing himself as his fellow Huntsmen and Huntresses exited their pods as well, each one in a similar state of discomfort as his own. Some of them had it worse than he did, with Harriet and Fiona having bright red patches of skin that looked dangerously close to freezerburn. UNSC technicians were on them immediately, making sure they were alright while their Auras already began the process of healing them. Only Clover seemed to be relatively unharmed, the lucky bastard that he was.
"Branwen, I see you're already up," Clover greeted him as he changed into his own clothes. Qrow merely let out a huff in reply as he slipped his shirt on, then began walking towards the cryobay door. To his annoyance, he quickly recognized Clover's footsteps as the Atlesian began walking alongside him.
"What, can't I go get breakfast?" Clover jokingly asked, a slight smirk on his face. Qrow merely rolled his eyes in response, then shrugged.
"Don't see why you'd want to," Qrow replied. "The food here is terrible."
"It's not too bad," Clover countered with a shrug of his own. "Honestly, compared to what we get in Atlas' military, the UNSC's practically a five-star catering service."
Despite himself, Qrow couldn't help but let out a chuckle, then he remarked, "I'll take your word for it. Sure, it's miles better than the food I had when I was a kid, but frankly that isn't saying much."
Clover chuckled and shook his head, then the two Huntsmen continued their walk towards the Midsummer Night's mess hall. As they traversed, they had to move around technicians and engineers who continued making repairs to the vessel. Although the Night had won their fight against the two Jackal Stormcutters, they had done a number to the ship's structural integrity. Armor had been boiled away, exposing sections of the ship to vacuum. Weapon emplacements were either destroyed or completely run dry, and their reactor output was only at a fraction of what they originally started with. There was no way they'd have been able to complete their original mission in this state; were they to come across another Covenant vessel, they'd be sitting ducks.
As such, Commander Keyes had ordered all non-essential personnel, including themselves, into cryo while he had the ship's engineers repair as much of the damage as they could while they limped their way towards the nearest repair yard. They had done so at a snail's pace, taking nearly a month just to get to where they were now. But, finally, they were there, or at least about to be.
"Any idea what this planet we're going to is?" Qrow asked as he helped himself to a bit of scrambled eggs, toast, and a glass of milk.
"Nothing much. Only that it's an Inner Colony," Clover admitted, sitting down across from him at the table. Around them, a few other marines wearing casuals were chatting among themselves and eating their breakfast. Occasionally, a few would glance in their direction, especially as more Huntsmen and Huntresses entered the mess hall. But, by this point their presence had become routine, so the glances didn't last long.
"'Inner Colony?'" Qrow repeated, raising an eyebrow while taking a bite of toast. The term seemed familiar, but its meaning eluded the tired Huntsman fresh out of cryo.
"They're also called the core worlds," Clover explained. "According to the data packages the Commander provided to us, the Inner Colonies consist of the first 210 worlds colonized by humanity during the Domus Diaspora, the first wave of human colonization. They're the industrial, political, and economic centers of Terran society. So far, we've been to what would be considered Outer Colonies, which were typically far less developed."
"Right, I remember now," Qrow admitted, frowning slightly as he drank from his milk. "The Outer Colonies provided the raw resources while the Inner Colonies refined them, turning them into stuff. Incidentally, the Inner Colonies got rich while the Outer Colonies stayed poor, relatively speaking. Sounds awfully familiar, wouldn't you say?"
Clover frowned slightly at the accusation, knowing exactly what Qrow was getting at. Yet, he couldn't completely refute what Qrow was saying, and so he sighed and shook his head before saying, "Yes, the parallels between Atlas and Mantle with the Inner and Outer Colonies is…striking."
"Little too close for comfort?" Qrow pointedly asked, and Clover let out another sigh.
"You know, I've had this exact same conversation with Robyn," Clover pointed out. "I'll tell you the same thing I told her then: although Atlas' relationship with Mantle could be better, it's not as bad as the relationship between the Inner and Outer Colonies."
"Yet. It's not that bad yet," Qrow pointed back with an extended finger. "Atlas has been practically ignoring Mantle for decades, leaving them the scraps while they keep the best stuff for themselves. The technology, the power, everything. Hell, Atlas even took the name of the kingdom itself. Mantle feels left behind, just like the Outer Colonies did, and we all know how that turned out. Given what we both know is coming, that's not a pattern we want to follow."
Clover looked into Qrow's eyes once again, which Qrow met without a flinch. The two veterans stared at each other for a few moments, neither backing down. Finally, Clover's eyes softened and he went back to eating.
"I understand that," Clover admitted, swiping some butter onto his toast before taking a small bite. "All of my team does, and so does Robyn's. The Covenant is too big of a threat for us to remain divided over petty differences anymore."
"No arguments here," Qrow replied, taking another quick drink of his milk. "Kinda sad that it took genocidal aliens bearing down on us to see that and not the genocidal monsters already at our front door, though."
"That is also true," Clover acknowledged, then scooped up some eggs with his fork and brought it into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed, then asked, "Speaking of which, what's your assessment on Khembalung?"
"We got lucky," Qrow immediately answered, placing his utensils on the table. "We knew it was a trap, yet we walked right in anyway. If it weren't for the fact that those Jackals and Grunts were pirates and not the actual Covenant, I don't think we'd be having this conversation right now."
"Agreed," Clover replied. "Khembalung was just light infantry, and not particularly good ones, either. The actual Covenant military is likely to be a different beast entirely, like comparing a pack of Saybrs without an alpha to one that does that's also backed up with Teryxes, Megoliaths, and other types of Grimm."
Qrow nodded in sullen agreement. That initial acknowledgement had been a sobering one when they got back to the ship. At first, the Huntsmen were high in spirits, thinking that they just proved they were able to take on the Covenant and win. But Commander Keyes had immediately shot that notion down. Khembalung was nothing more than a skirmish, not an actual battle. One that didn't even really matter in the grand scheme of things. Nothing of tactical or strategic value was gained. They only got several soldiers and nearly the entire ship killed in exchange for putting the pirates down. It had been an unacceptable risk to go down there, one that Keyes had clearly blamed himself for more than anyone else. Personally, while Qrow was happy to have put those birds in the ground and make off with all their stuff, in the end he didn't think it was worth it.
"Still, as a first taste of what the Covenant have to offer, we could've had worse," Qrow admitted after a moment of silent contemplation. "Better to tip our toes in first before diving in."
"That is the silver lining, isn't it?" Clover rhetorically asked. "In that case, perhaps fighting those pirates first could be considered good luck?"
Qrow scoffed and shook his head. He then said, "I wouldn't go that far."
Clover looked at him for a moment, then nodded and added, "Perhaps. But, my Semblance does bring good fortune, so I suppose that has something to do with how things went."
Qrow shot his head up towards Clover in surprise, who smiled knowingly before giving a playful wink. He then stood up, taking his tray with him as he placed it in the appropriate receptacle. As the Atlesian specialist left, Qrow remained seated and watched him leave. Only then did he return his attention to his food, before shaking his head and letting out a huff.
It took roughly an hour for the other Huntsmen and Huntresses to enter the mess hall and finish eating. Compared to Qrow and Clover, their conversations were far livelier. There was a sense of victory in them, that they took on the Covenant and won. Some still acted outright dismissive, especially Gron who still felt it was primarily a human conflict, although he did at least recognize that they were dangerous. At the same time, though, unease still hung over them. Their brush with death was way too close for anyone's tastes, and Qrow suspected the youngest of them were attempting to convince themselves otherwise. In all his years in the field, Qrow had long since learned to abandon those thoughts in favor of recognizing the danger in front of him as it was. Doing otherwise only got you and others killed.
Eventually, they finished their discussions, then moved on to one of the Night's still-intact cold-storage bays. Now that they were awake, and the ship nearing their stop, it was decided that it would be a good time to go over their spoils. Covenant weapons, technology, and even corpses.
"Gods, they look even uglier up close," Harriet remarked as she stood over the corpse of a Grunt. Several bullet holes were punched into its exoskeleton, with part of its head missing as well as one of its forearms, but there was enough to get a good look at the alien.
"They're a lot bigger than I expected," Yuri admitted, rubbing his hand across his chin which was now starting to sport some small blue feathers growing as a beard. He then glanced between the Grunt and Fiona then remarked, "I think this one's taller than you, Fiona."
The sheep Faunus shrunk in on herself slightly, until Robyn comfortingly patted her on the shoulder then leaned over the Grunt's corpse. She absentmindedly ran her finger over the exoskeleton, getting a feel for the texture as well as applying a bit of pressure. The carapace didn't budge, then she brought her hand away and rubbed it against her shirt.
"Yeah, they're definitely different up close," Robyn said, then turned towards the others. "Still, wasn't that impressed by them. Sure, their weapons pack a punch and there were a lot of the little bastards, but there was no cohesion in them. No motivation to stand and fight. Once their leaders were dead, or the situation got too hot, they completely panicked. I've seen freshmen students keep their composure better than those Grunts did."
"It's like they were just given a gun and told how to shoot it, then sent onto the field," Clover added, crossing his arms.
"Well, according to our intel," Johnson spoke up, standing at the edge of the pullout table the Grunt was laid upon, "that's pretty much how the Covenant use the Grunts. They're at the bottom tier of their society and breed like there's no tomorrow, so they use them as cannon fodder. Sometimes they'll get thousands of the gas-suckers and throw them against entrenched positions, completely unarmed mind you, just to exhaust ammunition and supplies. Then, once the survivors are completely exhausted, the actually trained and armed Covies move in for the kill."
"That sounds…heartless," Abby noted, her face aghast while the others, even Gron, grimaced.
"Never said the Covenant was nice," Johnson replied, glancing up at the mouse Faunus. "But yeah. The idea of sending soldiers into battle unarmed or untrained just to die, human or otherwise, makes my blood boil. Better for us, though. One of the only advantages we got in this war is that our soldiers are generally better trained than the Covenant's, except for the Elites of course. If the Covenant actually took the time to properly train all their troops, I don't think we'd be here right now."
"It doesn't matter if they're trained or not," Vine calmly interjected. "Quantity is a quality all on its own."
"That it is, Zeki," Johnson dryly responded, then let out a sigh. "Either way, most of the Covenant's ground troops are made up of Grunts. A typical formation is a bunch of Grunts and Jackals in front while the Elite overseeing them is in the back. Usually they're armed with plasma pistols or needlers, as well as carrying plasma grenades. Sometimes they're given fuel rod guns, but those are reserved for specialists and veterans."
"I saw a Jackal aim one at Abby earlier, before it exploded," Qrow stated, and Johnson nodded.
"That's a rare sight," Johnson admitted. "Jackals typically don't do that, their bodies aren't really built for it, but given the situation he was in I imagine he didn't really care."
"How come it exploded?" Thomas asked, the goat Faunus scratching his furry legs.
"Some fuel rods have built-in security mechanisms that, should the wielder die, it'll explode with the force of a plasma grenade. The Covenant don't like it when we try to make off with their stuff, you see? Unfortunately for the guy running that little operation, something happened which made the dead man's switch activate while he was still holding it. Then, kaboom. No more Jackal."
Johnson briefly shifted his eyes towards Qrow in recognition. The Huntsman didn't bother looking back, but the message was received regardless.
"While I can understand the logic there," Elm admitted, "that seems like a huge liability. What if someone using a fuel rod gun is killed while in the middle of their…lance, you called it?"
"Right on both accounts, ma'am," Johnson confirmed. "Which is yet another reason why you should take out any Covenant bastards using a fuel rod gun first. Might kill two birds with one stone. Seems like the Covenant is starting to recognize that, though. The frequency of guns having that dead man's switch has dropped considerably since the beginning of the war. Used to happen all the time; now it's only most of the time. At the very least, gives you an opportunity to pick one up and use their own heavy weapons against them. Let me tell you, that's a satisfying feeling like nothing else."
"I can imagine," May admitted, speaking up from the other side of the room. She and the rest of the party were looking over one of the intact Jackal bodies they had managed to recover. A large section of its stomach was completely gone, along with a hole punched through its eye and out the back of its skull, but it would be enough to bring back to Remnant as proof.
"What about these Jackals?" Joanna asked, pointing to the lean, avian creature. "I know they're nothing but pirates, but any insight is better than nothing."
"Hmm," Johnson hummed as he left the Grunt's body to look over the Jackal. "Compared to the Grunts, these guys were far deadlier. They're also just above the Grunts in the Covenant's hierarchy, which they like to remind the gas-suckers of every chance they get. Intel also suggests that they're all mercenaries, serving the Covenant on a contractual basis rather than any religious conviction."
"That makes me sick. Killing all those innocent people…just for money?" Robyn growled, and Qrow grimly frowned while clenching his fist. The thought of someone willingly committing genocide simply because you were being paid to do so was revolting to him. A glance around the room told him that the others, especially the Faunus who experienced such travesties first-hand, agreed.
Johnson nodded, then admitted, "Yep. Got some eyes on them, though, which Redwall can attest to."
"Sometimes I feel like the bruise that beam rifle shot gave me is still there," Abby muttered, rubbing the spot on her forehead where the shot in question hit.
"As I said before, Jackals have some of the best eyesight in the entire Covenant military," Johnson explained, coming over to join Qrow and the others, mostly the ones who weren't present at Khembalung. "They're excellent marksmen, able to hit a target the size of a pinhead from two kilometers out like it's nothing, but piss-poor snipers. Have little to no patience for that sort of thing."
Sienna scrunched up her face at that, then turned to Yuri and asked, "Yuri, what's the longest you've stayed in position to take out a target?"
"About a week. Was trying to hunt down an Ursa Alpha," Yuri immediately replied, a smug chuckle escaping his lips from the memory. "Took it out in one shot to the eye."
"Well, a Jackal won't wait that long. At most, they'll give you a few minutes," Johnson said. "Either way, if you see any Jackals carrying carbines or especially beam rifles, you keep your heads down because they'll take it clean off. Otherwise, most Jackals go into combat carrying energy shield gauntlets, which are impervious to nearly all of our small arms, along with plasma pistols. My advice is to either move around and hit them in the back, throw a grenade at their feet or, if you're feeling lucky, shoot them through the gap in their shields they fire from."
"Duly noted," Robyn replied, crossing her arms and frowning slightly. She had noticed how strong their shields were when she and Clover fought against them back on Khembalung and found that the exact same strategies that Johnson was giving them now worked wonders.
The Huntsmen, Huntresses, and Johnson continued to look over the remains. Those two weren't the only corpses they gathered. In the end, they had managed to grab nearly two-dozen Grunt bodies and half as many Jackals, all of which were in different conditions. Some were mostly intact, like the first two they looked over. Others were heavily damaged, but not to the point of being completely unrecognizable. Either way, all of them would be brought back to Remnant to serve as physical proof of the Covenant's existence. Should they come across any more bodies, especially those of other species, they would do the same thing.
Finally, they put the bodies back into cold storage, then moved on to a nearby storage room which was holding all of the Covenant technology they had gathered. Special attention was given by the UNSC towards gathering Covenant weapons, which Qrow understood. Besides sheer numbers, the biggest advantage the Covenant had was in their technology, and the UNSC was throwing everything they had into cracking it so that they could replicate it for their own purposes. Unfortunately, from what he had been told, progress had been slow. Regardless, UNSC protocol was clear: any and all alien technology was to be recovered, if possible, and handed over to the Office of Naval Intelligence for study and reverse engineering. It was a sound policy, but neither Qrow nor the rest of the Remnantian delegation belonged to the UNSC.
"Now, about the weapons…" Qrow began as they looked over the alien arsenal. Dozens of plasma pistols, beam rifles, and even a few needlers were arranged on an inclined table, with technicians carefully examining them with gloved hands.
"We need to take some of them back to Remnant," Clover declared. "They're vital evidence towards the Covenant's capabilities, and even if we can't replicate them we can at least develop countermeasures."
"If it were up to me, I'd let you. So would the Commander," Johnson replied, then sighed and shook his head. "Unfortunately, ONI has a bit of a thing about alien technology. Can't keep their spooky hands off them. You'll be hard-pressed to convince them to let you take off with even one."
"I don't care what your ONI says," Sienna retorted, a frown on her face as she crossed her arms. "That rule may apply to you and the rest of the UNSC, but we're not part of the UNSC. We're from Remnant, so technically we don't have to follow it. They must have collected hundreds of examples of these weapons by now, so don't try to tell me they can't afford to let us keep what we've rightfully earned."
"Sienna is right," Robyn added. "I'm not saying we want all of them, but Khembalung was a joint effort. It wouldn't be fair for only the UNSC to get the spoils. It should be shared."
Qrow and the other Huntsmen agreed, although he couldn't help but notice that Gron and Sienna focused most of their attention on the weapons themselves. When Sienna looked away, Gron's gaze lingered for a bit longer and adopted an almost conspiratorial edge to it. Qrow didn't like it, but kept his mouth shut as Johnson sighed again and Gron looked back towards the sergeant.
"Again, I agree with you one-hundred percent," Johnson said, "but it's not up to me or the Commander. If I had to guess, your best luck is that ONI's gonna get their hands on these weapons first then give you the scraps. It sucks, I know, but that's the reality of the situation."
Qrow frowned slightly, along with most of the Remnantian delegation. After a moment, however, he sighed and hung his head. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Johnson was most likely correct. They were on a UNSC vessel, after all, and Remnant didn't exactly have the facilities to study alien technology like the UNSC did. Still, he'd find some way to get some of the Covenant's tech to Remnant hands. They had to know what they were dealing with, and just bodies weren't going to be enough.
A loud horn rang through the ship, bringing everyone's attention up towards the ceiling. Recognizing it as the signal that they were about to exit Slipspace, the Huntsmen and Huntresses promptly left the storage room and made their way towards the bridge. They wanted to be there to see the approach to wherever it was that they were going.
By the time they arrived at the bridge, Commander Keyes was standing in front of the holotable, looking out into the black, empty void of Slipspace. The rest of the bridge crew were at their stations, monitoring the heavily-damaged ship to make sure the stress of exiting Slipspace wouldn't rip it asunder. While the risk of that was low, Qrow made sure to keep as tight of a grip on his Semblance as possible.
"Commander," Clover greeted, flashing a quick salute to the man with the rest of the Ace-Ops. Neither Qrow nor the rest of the delegation did so, but at the same time Qrow did stand up straighter as the Commander turned around. Given how the man literally saved their lives, he had earned all of their respect.
"Huntsmen, Huntresses," Commander Keyes replied. "We'll be exiting Slipspace soon near the planet Vyraj where we can use one of its orbital or ground-based shipyards to make repairs."
"What can you tell us about the colony?" Robyn asked, glancing behind Keyes to look at the black void beyond the windows. Even though they had seen this view dozens of times before, it never stopped looking unnerving to Qrow. It felt like he was staring into the abyss, and that something was staring right back just out of sight.
"It's one of our earliest settled colonies with a predominantly Slavic culture, particularly Russian," Keyes explained. "As such, English isn't the primary language of the planet. I had Shakespeare take the liberty of updating your translation software so you'll be able to understand what everyone will be saying, but the same isn't true for them. In terms of population, economy, and climate, it's an industrial center with a population of roughly three hundred million people. The planet itself is largely cool, especially in the polar regions, but towards the equator it's far more temperate and arboreal. It should be quite comfortable."
"I take it we'll be going planetside during the repairs, then?" Qrow asked, and the Commander nodded.
"You will, along with the rest of the crew," Keyes confirmed. "Think of it as shore leave, or whatever the equivalent is for Huntsmen and Huntresses. God knows you all deserve it."
"Thank you, Commander," Abby replied, a warm smile on her face. Then she gently asked, "What will you be doing?"
"Besides overseeing the repairs, I'll be facing my superiors over my decision to engage in Khembalung," Keyes answered. The others frowned and he let out a sigh, then he added, "I don't know how it's going to go. It's possible that they may reassign you to a different ship, or relieve me of command."
"Do you think they'll do that?" Elm asked, her face softening. The last thing any of them wanted was for Keyes to be replaced, especially over something that they volunteered for, but when he shook his head even Qrow relaxed a little.
"I don't think so," Keyes admitted, but his frown never left his face, "but I put everyone on this ship in unnecessary danger. Almost got you and the ship killed. I'll be surprised if I don't get punished for it somehow."
The Remnantians frowned, some more noticeably than others. But, as much as they wanted to protest further, they knew there wasn't anything they could really do other than hope for the best. Their scrolls then beeped as Shakespeare uploaded information about Vyraj onto them, which Qrow and the others immediately began to pore over. Scrolling through the information, the veteran Huntsman quickly lost track of time in favor of absorbing it all to the point where he barely even noticed another warning klaxon blare, announcing that they were about to exit Slipspace. Robyn helpfully tapped him on the shoulder, alerting him to what was about to occur.
Placing his scroll back into his pocket, Qrow stared out through the window as the black void outside was overlapped by a bright white light. It lasted for only a second, then the Midsummer Night found itself looking at a small red star, or at least that's what the polarized window screens showed them. Their position displayed on the holotable, Qrow watched as they approached the star named Smorodina, passing by the lone gas giant with dozens of moons orbiting it and the small asteroid field dividing the system in two.
Thanks to the Night's damaged state, it took roughly an hour to close the distance to Vyraj. But, as they got closer, they noticed right away that it was much different from the other colonies they went to previously. For one, hundreds of ships were going to and from the planet, mostly small merchant vessels along with a small fleet of roughly a dozen UNSC frigates and destroyers. Large space elevators came up from the surface, reaching down into the hearts of massive cities. Bright blue seas covered most of the planet's surface, along with a pair of visible continents that were separated by an ocean. Billowy white clouds blanketed the surface, and large sheets of ice covered the poles.
There was no question about it. This planet, unlike all the others so far, was alive. After all the death and desolation they had witnessed on this journey, Qrow couldn't help but let out a small smile. Abby and Fiona, along with some of the more emotional members of the delegation such as Casper Marine, let out a few tears, but the rest were able to maintain their composure.
"UNSC Midsummer Night, you are clear for docking at Chernobog Orbital Shipyard. Proceed to docking station twelve," a man with a thick accent spoke up on the other side of the already connected comm channel, shocking Qrow out of his stupor. Apparently things had progressed while he was off staring, and now the ship was flying towards a large orbital station. Over a dozen ships were locked into various docking bays, and as they drew closer he could see sparks as workers and machines made repairs. Some of the damage made him wince, especially at the large plasma scars that had nearly gutted a ship twice the size of the Night.
Otherwise, their approach was smooth, and soon the Midsummer Night was locked into place. As the engine died down, Commander Keyes closed his eyes and let out another sigh. He then turned back around to face the Huntsmen, stopping them from heading off to prepare their things.
"Before you go, there is one last situation that we need to address. I apologize in advance for any offense," Keyes said, looking at the Faunus in the group. At first, they weren't quite sure of what he was getting at, then Gron's eyes widened in realization and he scowled.
"You gotta be kidding me," he complained, prompting the other Faunus to realize as well.
"At the moment, Remnant's existence is highly classified. The only people in UNSC space who know of Remnant's existence, and your people, are on this mission or were directly involved with First Contact and the continued UNSC presence thereafter. Otherwise, knowledge of Remnant is strictly on a need to know basis," Keyes began to explain, confirming their fears. "Unfortunately, that includes the existence of the Faunus. As such, for the purpose of keeping Remnant's existence a secret until further notice, I've been requested to have you cover your Faunus traits during our time at Vyraj."
Everyone's demeanor shifted at the news. While the Ace-Ops adopted looks of immediate understanding, the Happy Huntresses and the human half of Vale's delegation narrowed their eyes in disappointment. They also glanced sympathetically at their Faunus companions, who were visibly saddened at the news. Fiona's ears even drooped pathetically. But, at the same time, it appeared that while they were disappointed by the announcement, their reluctant sighs and nods told Qrow that they accepted the necessity of the request.
The same could not be said for the White Fang's delegation, with the notable exception of Abby who appeared to agree with her fellow Faunus outside of the White Fang.
"Commander, I must protest this," Yuri spoke up, his voice mostly calm but holding a noticeable edge to it. "The Faunus have been marginalized for far too long and the last thing we want is for that to follow us here outside of Remnant."
"I understand you're upset," Commander Keyes began, softening his gaze towards the offended party, only for Gron to openly scoff while scowling.
"Upset?' Oh, I think we're a little past being upset," Gron countered, narrowing his eyes at the human. "This is the exact same type of Grimm-shit we've been fighting against for thousands of years. The White Fang was founded to stop this from happening. What right do you have to tell us to hide ourselves away?"
"While we have the utmost respect for the Faunus," Commander Keyes diplomatically began, "your unique attributes would make it impossible to blend yourselves in to our society. People would start asking questions, which is the last thing we need at this time. Believe me, this isn't a decision we came to lightly."
"Yet you did it all the same," Gron angrily pointed out, then gestured towards the humans of the group. "I don't see you asking any of the humans here to cover themselves up. Look at their hair, for the Brothers' sake!"
"Those can be easily explained as simple hair dyes," Keyes replied, narrowing his eyes slightly. "The same cannot be said for your reptilian skin, Mr. Grammy's feathers instead of hair, Mr. Cornell's goat legs, or the ears the rest of you have."
Gron's breathing grew harsher, while Keyes remained calm and composed. At the same time, he glanced at the pair of MPs who were standing guard in the room. They were focusing more and more of their attention onto the increasingly hostile Gron, which Qrow and the others quickly took note of. With a simple, slight movement of his head, Keyes ordered the men to stand down. They did so without question, although their fingers were hovering near their triggers.
Gron's scowl intensified as he clenched his fists tightly, then retorted, "Tch, sure. That's the official reason, anyway. But we all know why you're doing this."
"And what reason would that be?" Keyes asked, his voice low and commanding. Tension hung over the air, and Qrow glanced around the room as the MPs readied themselves to move at any moment. Gron was too preoccupied with glaring at Keyes to notice, or perhaps he did and wanted something to go down. Either way, it was clear that if things continued as they were, a fight was likely to break out.
Gron began to accuse, "Oh, you humans are all the-!"
"That's enough, Gron," Sienna interrupted, causing the Faunus to look at her in surprise. She was glaring at him, and after a moment he flinched and backed down. He stepped back and crossed his arms, grumbling angrily to himself, but Sienna's hardened gaze didn't leave him.
Once she was certain Gron wasn't going to start a brawl in the middle of the bridge, she shifted her attention towards Commander Keyes and growled through bared teeth, "Apologies for my subordinate's behavior. Rest assured, we'll comply with the UNSC's request, but that doesn't mean we're happy about it. I will notify the rest of the White Fang of this when we return to Remnant."
"Of course," Keyes replied, his voice returning to a calmer demeanor as the situation died down. "Do understand that this is only a temporary measure. I can't say when the policy will be lifted, but I don't expect it to last forever."
"I should hope so," Sienna stated, her voice holding a slight edge to it. Keyes nodded, then gestured towards Sergeant Johnson who was standing at the back of the group.
"We've already laid out gear for you to wear in the barracks. Please follow Sergeant Johnson and he'll lead the way," Keyes requested. The Huntsmen and Huntresses nodded and moved to comply, but just before Sienna left Keyes called out, "Ms. Khan, a word."
Sienna deliberately took a few more dismissive steps before stopping and turning back around to face Commander Keyes. She could guess what he was going to say, and she huffed, "Gron's behavior was unprofessional, and I assure you it will not happen again."
"Glad we're on the same page," Keyes replied, crossing his arms behind his back and straightening himself. He then asked, "I take it based off his reaction that he has a bit of a history with similar requests?"
"We all have," Sienna confirmed, frowning slightly. "It's one of the ways the Kingdoms have historically oppressed us. They used our Faunus traits to divide us from the rest of humanity, marking us for scorn or worse. Even today, some Faunus feel compelled to hide their traits and pretend to be human rather than openly be who they are. Gron obviously never had that luxury. So don't think your UNSC can ask us to join and help your people, while treating ours as pariahs who need to hide ourselves away from your sensibilities. We've had more than enough of such empty promises."
"I can imagine, and you have my sympathies. If it weren't for extraneous circumstances, I wouldn't be making this request," Keyes said, then narrowed his eyes. "But, understand this: The Midsummer Night is my ship, and while you are onboard you are under my command. Mr. Traekke's actions were borderline violent insubordination. The only reason why I am not throwing him in the brig for the rest of the mission is because I expected such a strong reaction. If he does so again, or threatens any UNSC personnel either on the Midsummer Night or otherwise, I will not be as lenient. Make sure he knows that. Am I clear, Ms. Khan?"
Sienna Khan looked up at Commander Keyes, her eyes narrowed. Keyes was staring right back, and the two leaders didn't once break eye contact. After a moment, still locking gazes, Sienna gritted out, "Crystal."
"Good. You're dismissed," Keyes ordered, turning his back towards the rest of the bridge.
Without saying another word, Sienna turned around and left, stalking down the hall while imperiously ignoring the watchful eyes now being focused on her. Being forced to suppress herself on the planet would be bad enough, and she would not lower her head a second longer than necessary, whatever their judgement.
Jacob Keyes watched as the Pelican ferrying the Huntsmen and Huntresses departed the Midsummer Night towards the planet below. Apprehension hung over him like a cloud, and he couldn't help but let out a sigh.
"That could've gone better," he quietly admitted to himself.
As soon as he had gotten the order from the UNSC, Keyes had dreaded the reaction he was going to get. While he wouldn't consider himself to be an expert in Faunus relations, and he suspected no one in the UNSC could claim that title at the moment, he knew without a shred of doubt in his mind that they wouldn't take it well. He personally found the order to be morally repugnant, although he had to admit the logic behind it. That was the only reason why he gave it.
The Faunus' reactions were mostly in line with what he expected, with most glumly accepting of the circumstances while the others were incensed. He suspected that was likely to happen, especially since Sienna Khan was noted to be far more confrontational in her leadership of the White Fang. In fact, reports from ONI spoke of the beginnings of an internal power struggle between Sienna and the White Fang's current leader, Ghira Belladonna, over its direction. Ghira openly advocated for a more peaceful resolution of the racial strife plaguing humanity and the Faunus, one built of off communication and mutual understanding, whereas Sienna advocated for a far more proactive, if outright violent, approach towards combating injustice. He could understand where she was coming from, but at the exact same time he had seen far too many groups that were once peaceful become nothing more than violent terrorists and Insurrectionists after giving in to those darker impulses. One of the hopes the UNSC had was that, by taking Sienna on this mission, they could assuage her onto their side, thereby preventing a potential radicalization of the civil rights group.
But Keyes feared that possibility was diminishing, especially after Gron Traekke nearly started a fight over the order. While they were able to avoid an open confrontation, the fact that a fight nearly broke out at all was cause for concern. Not just for Terran-Faunus relations, but for the mission as a whole. It was no secret that, out of everyone on the mission, Gron was by far the most combative and dismissive towards their shared ordeal, frequently calling the war against the Covenant a purely human affair. The implication was obvious: Gron viewed humans and faunus as two entirely separate species, and Keyes got the sense that Gron felt the Faunus were superior. That was a dangerous view. For the life of him, Keyes couldn't quite understand why Sienna felt the need to bring him along in the first place. He suspected that the White Fang had a critical lack of Huntsmen-grade fighters, and Gron was one of the few they had on hand. Another part of him, though, worried that Gron and Sienna were more in tune with each other than it would appear.
Either way, Keyes directed his men to keep a closer eye on both Gron Traekke and Sienna Khan. While he doubted they would cause any actual issues, he could no longer guarantee it. As far as he was concerned, the White Fang was now the most problematic group of delegates he had on his ship. The Ace-Ops had been nothing but professional, seamlessly molding into the UNSC command structure like a well-worn glove, and while not military the Vale group had proven themselves to be professional both on and off the field. Even the Happy Huntresses, despite still being under arrest for sneaking onto the ship, had proven to be respectable and trustworthy enough to not cause any issues. But a member of the White Fang almost started a brawl in the bridge, one that could've resulted in needless casualties and perhaps even a few deaths. That was unacceptable.
Already he was typing up an incident report when he got a tight-band communication from a nearby ONI prowler. Letting out another sigh, Keyes finished and submitted it before looking over the summons and its accompanying authorization codes. After he finished and left his console to start walking, he wondered if it boded better or worse for him that he would apparently be answering to some clandestine ONI representative for this debriefing rather than a more direct superior. Certainly better than a committee, he decided as he entered the hangar bay, where a black-coated Pelican dropship, guarded by a pair of ODSTs, was waiting for him. Both soldiers flashed quick salutes as he passed them by, then entered the dropship behind him. As soon as the hangar was depressurized, the Pelican took off into the black void of space, leaving the Midsummer Night behind.
Silence filled the air as the Pelican flew out towards the asteroid belt, far away from any prying eyes. There, nestled between the asteroids, was a single Sahara-class heavy prowler. From his view in the cockpit, it was nearly impossible to make out thanks to its stealth ablative coating, making it nearly invisible to both the naked eye and radar systems. He only knew it was there when the vessel temporarily turned its active camouflage off, opening one of its hangar bays and allowing the Pelican access. The dropship entered without pause, and as soon as they landed the hangar was closed and the ship's stealth systems were back online.
When the hangar bay pressurized, Commander Keyes calmly stepped out of the Pelican, with the two ODSTs escorting him. The trio walked through the mostly empty prowler, but Keyes knew he was being watched every step he took. This entire ship was owned and operated by ONI, and he wouldn't be surprised if there were more cameras watching him beyond the few obvious ones he had seen. Down the long, narrow hallways he went, never once slacking or breaking his stride. If he were to be punished, Keyes was going to do it with his head held high.
Finally, the two ODSTs led him to a single door. It opened automatically for Keyes, who took a deep breath before walking in. The room inside was brightly lit, a featureless steel cube with a small metal table in the center. On the opposite side of the table, seated at a chair, was an agent of ONI, no discernable nametag on his person. His eyes were covered by a pair of thick sunglasses (a ridiculous affectation in the middle of a starship, in Keyes' opinion), and his jet black hair neatly combed back. Other than his pale skin, Keyes couldn't make out any discernable details.
"Commander Keyes," the agent greeted, not even bothering to introduce himself, then gestured towards the empty chair opposite him. Jacob easily hid his irritation at the cloak and dagger power play bullshit. "Please, have a seat. We have much to discuss."
Jacob Keyes immediately sat down and pulled the chair in towards the table. For several moments, the ONI spook simply stared silently at him, as though he was peering into his soul. The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife, but Keyes refused to show anything less than perfect composure. Doing otherwise wouldn't help him, and would probably make things worse than they already were.
Finally, the agent pulled a file folder out from his lap and placed it on top of the table. It was labeled Incident Report: Khembalung, then the agent opened the folder, revealing the pictures and written report held within, and began tapping it slowly with his finger.
"We received your report about the skirmish on Khembalung," the agent revealed. "There's no need to debrief me on the details; I already know them. What I and the Office of Naval Intelligence want to know is what convinced you to take this particular course of action."
Keyes nodded, then began to explain, "Due to the recency and nature of Khembalung's glassing, it was determined that the planet would serve as an excellent example of light plasma bombardment for Remnant's delegates. Our approach to the planet was normal, until we received the garbled distress call."
"I'm aware of this," the agent interjected, pointing his finger at Keyes while frowning. "The Midsummer Night received the transmission and determined it was both old and very likely to be a trap. Yet, despite this acknowledgement, not only did you authorize a ground expedition to investigate the signal, but you also allowed a team of Huntsmen to travel down as well, nearly getting them and your entire ship killed. Again, the steps leading up to this incident aren't in question, Commander. I need to know the reasons why."
"Understood," Keyes replied, his voice calm and composed. "I was simply starting from the beginning to better explain myself. As you said, once we received the transmission we determined both its age and likely source. Myself, the crew of the Midsummer Night, and the Huntsmen and Huntresses under my care immediately recognized the risks. We were presented with few options on how to proceed, and none of them were truly favorable."
"Please explain," the spook ordered, his tone of voice suggesting that he already knew the reasons why, but he wanted the words to come out of Keyes' mouth.
"Our best case scenario was that there were, or at least had been survivors on the planet," Keyes explained. "Had that been the case, the operation would've been a simple search and rescue, and leaving the system too early would've resulted in their deaths. Had the source of the transmission been pirates, as it turned out to be, our fear was that by leaving, we'd either be telling the pirates we knew they were there, meaning they'd leave before a UNSC battle fleet could arrive to investigate or, even worse, prepare a fleet of their own to assault ours. We also feared leaving a less protected target, such as a merchant vessel, to take our place at some other time. At least we could defend ourselves."
"As for the Huntsmen and Huntresses' inclusion, they made the argument that, should it just be a search and rescue, they'd be able to accomplish their mission of gathering information at the same time," Keyes added. "Or, if need be, they could've served as effective force multipliers on the field. Since they were all trained fighters, they felt the risk was minimal. As it turned out, their presence did result in far fewer casualties among my marines."
"While that is true, Commander, and the combat data you gathered is of prime interest, the fact remains that you had standing orders to adhere to," the agent reminded him. "Your mission was simply to ferry the Huntsmen and Huntresses across UNSC space, showing them evidence of the Covenant's activities so that we can convince Remnant to join the war on our behalf. We cannot do that if they get killed, which almost happened under your watch. While I can understand the desire to investigate and head off any threats those pirates may have caused in the future, the proper course of action should've been to leave the system and report it to the nearest UNSC station."
"I understand that perfectly, and I'm in total agreement," Keyes said. "If I could go back and choose differently, I would've left it alone."
"Glad we see eye to eye," the agent said as he closed the folder and slid it to the side. "Placing your charges in unnecessary danger aside, this isn't the only concern we have with your handling of the mission. Not only did you allow a group of stowaways to participate, not even an hour ago one of your delegates nearly started a brawl on your ship."
"The Happy Huntresses have been placed under formal arrest due to their actions," Keyes explained, "and have been under constant surveillance. At the same time, they have proven themselves to be professional and trustworthy, and my belief was that by allowing this the UNSC would be able to establish a positive reception in Mantle, granting us a foothold. So far, I believe my gamble is paying off."
"And what about Gron Traekke and the White Fang?" the ONI agent warned. "I understand the reasons why the order caused such an outburst. Discriminatory policies against the Faunus on Remnant are well-documented by now, and the regrettably necessary order was given with the understanding that it would cause discomfort. With that in mind, you do deserve credit, Commander, for handling the situation as diplomatically as you could. I fear that, had the incident actually escalated into violence and not just angry words, it would've been a diplomatic incident even worse than had the Huntsmen died against the Covenant. At least that would've proven how dangerous they are and not make us out to look like despots to both the Faunus and Remnant as a whole."
"I agree completely," Keyes stated, straightening himself slightly. "Do keep in mind that we're only assuming that Gron would've actually started something. There's no real evidence that he would've escalated into violence."
"Yet the fact that he nearly did is still cause of concern. By all accounts, he should've been thrown into the brig for at least the duration of the shore leave," the spook pointed out. "Why did you let him go onto the planet surface? Wouldn't that set a precedent that they could get away with similar actions in the future?"
"I made it abundantly clear to Sienna Khan that this was a one-time courtesy, on account of Gron Traekke's outburst coming after their order to disguise themselves," Keyes replied. "Their protest was something I expected, although his reaction was far more than I originally anticipated. That was what stayed my hand, as well as keeping in mind the optics of arresting one of the delegates after a single minor incident. Regardless, I've already ordered at least a pair of marines or ODSTs to watch Gron at all times, and should he pull anything like this again he will be properly punished."
"See that he doesn't," the agent replied, then folded up his arms and locked his fingers together. He then said, "Now then, luckily for you, Commander, this isn't a disciplinary hearing. HIGHCOM has already decided that removing you from the mission, which would be entirely justified in my opinion, over your conduct would be counterproductive. Both from a continuity standpoint, as well as logistical. You will, however, be receiving a citation on your record. Should you receive another, you'll be relieved of your command and demoted."
"Of course," Keyes replied, internally letting out a sigh of relief. A formal reprimand and citation was the best possible outcome for him, although he would have to remain on his best behavior for the foreseeable future.
"In addition to your citation, the Office of Naval Intelligence has decided that, in order to ensure the mission parameters are properly met, an agent will be assigned to your ship," the man suddenly added, shocking Keyes.
He bit back a curse, realizing that he should've seen this coming, then said, "Understandable. May I assume you'll be the agent in question?"
"Heavens no," the bureaucrat immediately answered, then let out a slight chuckle. "I'm of far better use behind a desk than on the field. No, the agent in question is just outside this door waiting for you. She'll be escorting you back to the Midsummer Night."
Keyes nodded in mild acceptance. He'd had more than enough dealings with ONI and their stomach-churning secrets to know that putting an agent on his ship would mean nothing but trouble. But, at the same time, there wasn't anything he could do about it. Giving the ONI man a nod, he stood up once he was silently dismissed, and the commander turned around and walked out of the room. Just as the agent said, there was a woman waiting for him, standing against the hull with her arms crossed behind her back.
She was wearing a black dress uniform, complete with long sleeves and pants that were tucked into her black boots. On the left side of her chest was the ONI seal, a black and white pyramid with a black-and-white ringed circle in the bottom-middle in front of a background of black lines aimed towards the center, with the acronym written across her right sleeve. Her blonde hair was neatly tied back into a ponytail, and despite being nearly a foot shorter than him she confidently locked her hardened blue eyes onto his own.
"Commander," the woman greeted, walking towards him "Lieutenant Veronica Dare, Office of Naval Intelligence Section One. I've been assigned to accompany you for the rest of your mission."
Keyes nodded, then held out his hand. Dare glanced at it for a moment, then took his hand into her own and shook it. Taking this as a sign, Keyes replied, "Glad to meet you, Lieutenant. I look forward to a proper working relationship with you."
Dare nodded, then tightened her grip slightly and said, "As do I, Commander."
[~][~]
Hello, everyone! After nearly two months of waiting, here's the next chapter of Dust and Echoes! Thank you all for your patience, and special thanks to NaanContributor and Jesse K for their help in bringing this story to life.
The Midsummer Night and its crew have arrived at the colony of Vyraj for repairs, along with shore leave for the weary travelers. But not everything is perfect, as Keyes has to face the consequences of his actions and tensions with the White Fang grow. How will this play out? You guys will have to wait and see.
Now, regarding the reviews. A few of you, mostly guests, have been sending me reviews which are just story requests. As in requesting that I write this particular story. I'm going to go out and declare that I will ignore any such requests. I write fanfiction for fun, and that means I only write stories that I come up with for series that I am interested in. I have no interest in writing a story that someone else comes up with, so please do not send me those requests. I want to keep guest reviews, but they need to be applicable to the story itself. With that in mind, I also request that the reviews don't become a message board for the story. Some of you have been responding to other people in the reviews, and I'm going to ask that you refrain from doing that in the future.
Also, when leaving reviews, it is not necessary to quote entire sections of the original work. That works on Spacebattles, but on it gets in the way.
Overall, I'm happy that you guys have been enjoying my story so much, so please keep up the comments. I love seeing them. Also, Nantono, the Arbiter/Thel Vadam is coming, and when he is he'll be of major importance for the overall story. It's just that I couldn't bring him in yet like I could with the Master Chief.
Let us know what you guys think, and I hope you enjoy!